Bad Day
by EatSleepBreatheJonas
Summary: Mitchie's had a bad day. Shane's got a solution. Rated T. Uncut M version in profile.


_**Bad Day**_

_EatSleepBreatheJonas_

_So I know most of you are like, WTF? Why aren't you updating _This is Me_? Well. I've been sick for the past 2 weeks. And it's not something that they think is going to get better. It's not cancer; it's some sort of infection. The drugs I'm on, well they have a 60/40 success rate and I'm in a lot of pain constantly. So needless to say, updating quickly hasn't really been an option. Plus, I'm kind of stumped. I have all these plans for the story, but I can't form them on paper. Give me time. This, whatever this is, is just to get my creative thoughts circulating again. It's probably crap, and I don't really care. Reviews are appreciated, not demanded. I don't even know what to rate this. There will probably be a really sexed up cut on my profile. But for now, this is the appropriate version. It won't be very long. (I was right. This is 2 pages typed.)_

Shane looked up expectantly as Mitchie walked in the door. His smile faltered as she dropped her purse on the ground, followed quickly by her body. She slumped in the corner, drawing her knees up to her chest and taking several deep breaths. He watched her carefully, waiting for the ever present smile to reveal itself. "Mitchie?" She looked up then, as if just noticing he was in their apartment. Her hollow eyes met his—he shivered. She looked so, he paused while he thought of the word, empty. Without thinking, Shane formed the stupidest question he could have asked. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, blowing her bangs out of her eyes in frustration. Shane rose from his chair and knelt beside her curled form. She shifted away from him, staring straight ahead and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I really really don't want to talk about it Shane." She whispered. Shane rocked back on his heels to watch at her. She met his gaze coldly. "Fine." She conceded, drawing her legs closer, "I'll talk about it."

Shane smiled triumphantly and rose, extending his hand to her. She shook her head and rested her chin on her knees. He sighed and slid back down the wall to rest next to her, legs outstretched in front of him. "Come here." He pulled her into his lap with ease. Mitchie didn't protest, she and Shane were best friends and she was used to this kind of contact with him. She settled her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the perfect combination of cologne and...Mitchie wrinkled her nose.

"Is that my Dove soap?" She questioned, her voice hoarse from the lack of use. Shane squirmed uneasily, not meeting her eyes. She laughed softly, running her hands along his broad shoulders. "I had a really bad day at work." Shane chuckled, pulling her hair over one shoulder and, stealing the lime green rubber band she kept around her wrist, tied it in place.

"I would have never guessed, from the way you came flying in here and threw down your purse." He teased lightly. Mitchie rolled her eyes, her mouth set in a frown. "I'm sorry, what happened?" He soothed now, rubbing her side.

"What didn't happen?" She groaned, shutting her eyes for a moment. "Let's see. My car stalled on the way to school." Shane opened his mouth to speak, only to have one finger pressed against his lips. "I would have called you, but I left my cell phone on the charger." He nodded silently, remembering seeing the device left in the kitchen moments earlier. Mitchie sighed, tugging at her skirt. "One of the student teachers spilled hot coffee all over this, which wasn't pleasant." She paused thoughtfully, trying to recall all the disastrous day's events. Shane waited patiently.

"Oh! How could I forget? None of the kids even made District Chorus. They're all totally unprepared for Region in two weeks. How bad is it going to look if the host school's show chorus can't even make it?" She groaned. Shane sighed, knowing how hard she was working with these kids. "The drummers were using the chorus room for practice and I have 3 holes in my ceiling now, from them throwing their damn sticks in the air."

Shane stared at her. "What did you just say?" Mitchie blinked back at him, unaware of what he was talking about. "Did you just swear?" Mitchie nodded and kept talking.

"Mr. Terry, the band director was in there with them and he spilled coffee all over my sheet music. All of it is ruined." Mitchie exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes at the memory of the soaked pages. Shane didn't know what to say—he was still stunned from her new vocabulary. Mitchie looked up at caught his dazed expression. "Are you still surprised I cursed?" She asked, slightly amused that he would find it so shocking.

"You don't curse." Shane mumbled, scratching his head. Mitchie shrugged. "How are play rehearsals going though? Were those any better?" He asked, looking for the silver lining in this situation. Mitchie groaned.

"My Frankie Valli has strep throat. How the...heck is he going to do any of the falsetto? Let alone the regular singing? _Sherry _was a mess, and I don't even want to talk about _Big Girls Don't Cry. _Nothing is going right today." Shane winced. He knew those were her favorite songs from the entire show, and if her star was sick...well then things didn't look good for the rest of the cast.

"How are the Angels?" He questioned, not sure he even wanted to know. Mitchie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose again. "Stacy's moving and Brittany decided to dye her hair. Amanda broke her ankle."

"Do I even want to know how she broke her ankle? And what color hair now?" Shane asked carefully, desperately not wanting to upset his best friend and roommate. Mitchie laughed lightly, though Shane could hear traces of hysteria .

"She broke her ankle pole vaulting. Pole vaulting—I thought she was kidding when she told me! And it's purple. Brittany's hair is purple." Shane faltered. Purple was going to look interesting under the stage lights. "All three of my Angels were the same size, with the same shade of blonde hair. Nope. I'm down to two Angels; one is in a walking cast and the other is a grape."

Shane chuckled. "Are you sure it's that purple?" Mitchie nodded exasperatedly. "It's really purple?" Mitchie nodded again, closing her eyes.

"It looks like she washed her hair in Welch's Grape Juice. It's violet at the roots, and she says by the show it should have permeated through the length of her hair. Painfully shocking violet hair, Shane, and she's supposed to be an Angel? Oh my goodness." Mitchie whimpered. Shane leaned in close, catching a whiff of her perfume.

"I have the perfect cure." Shane spoke up. At Mitchie's questioning glance, he elaborated. "For all your stress—I have the perfect cure." She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You need to get laid."


End file.
